


thieves like us

by oryx



Category: Kaizoku Sentai Gokaiger, Kamen Rider Decade
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 23:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3268259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Kaitou succeeds at stealing from pirates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thieves like us

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He always sleeps with a sword within arm’s reach.  
   
It’s not as if he expects to be attacked. It’s just a holdover, really, from his days in the barracks, Sid’s voice in the back of his mind telling him to always be vigilant, to never drop his guard. The Zangyack Special Forces had a tendency to attract unsavory characters into its ranks, after all, a fact he never really questioned until it was already far too late. (No soldier should have to sleep with a knife under their pillow when surrounded by comrades-in-arms.)  
   
But what’s done is done, he supposes. And nowadays he has trouble resting without the cool metal of a weapon beneath his fingertips.  
   
It has its benefits, though. That and the ability to wake up at the drop of a hat, his mind instantly recognizing when a sound is wrong or out of place. And that creak just now, he thinks, as his eyes snap open and his hand curls around his sword hilt, was just _slightly_ out of the ordinary. Too sharp to be the Galleon settling, and too sudden to be one of the crew.  
   
There’s someone else on board.  
   
He gets out of bed and exits his room as silently as possibly, careful of where he places his feet. On the stairs leading up to the bridge he pauses, attention caught by the shadowy shape of the intruder, their back thankfully turned away from him. A tall figure – probably a man, he thinks. They’ve got the Ranger Key chest tucked under one arm.  
   
In a split second he climbs the remaining stairs and levels his sword at the intruder’s neck, the edge of the blade hovering a hair’s breadth above their skin.  
   
“Set it down,” he says softly. “And put your hands where I can see them.”  
   
For a moment the intruder remains still and silent. And then, strangely enough, they laugh.  
   
“Or what?” a familiar voice says. “You’ll kill me? You couldn’t do it last time.”  
   
They turn to look back at him, the curve of their smile bright and instantly recognizable.  
   
“You,” Joe says, and lets his sword fall without thinking.  
   
“Me,” Kaitou Daiki says. He takes advantage of the opening to take a swift step back, grip tightening around the Ranger Key chest. “And I’ll be taking these keys, if you don’t mind. I’m interested in getting my hands on this so-called ‘greatest treasure in the universe.’”  
   
Joe stares at him. _Oh, so he thinks…_ He can feel an amused smile tug at the corner of his mouth.  
   
“Open it,” he says. He reaches over to flick on the lights, then, and Kaitou lifts a hand against the sudden brightness, a wary look in his eyes.  
   
“Go ahead.” Joe nods toward the Key chest. He sheathes his sword and walks over to take a seat on the couch, crossing his arms and leaning back, watching expectantly.  
   
Kaitou’s frown deepens. His posture is tense with suspicion as he does as instructed, flipping the lid open and peering inside.  
   
For a moment he says nothing.  
   
“So,” he says slowly, still staring deep into the Key Chest. “I’m guessing you _don’t_ have the others hidden away somewhere?”  
   
Joe shakes his head.  
   
“Just these six, then.”  
   
Joe nods, barely managing to suppress a laugh. Getting the Ranger Keys back had only been a temporary thing, after all. (The defeat of the Sentai had to look legitimate, but it’s not as if they were going to keep them.)  
   
“Wonderful,” Kaitou mutters. He lets the chest fall shut with a muffled ‘thump’ and shoves it back on to its table. When he settles into the captain’s chair Joe is surprised at his own non-reaction. It usually bothers him, to see other people sitting there. But this man, for some reason, is different.  
   
“So I came all this way for nothing,” Kaitou sighs. His gaze slides towards Joe. “Then again… you all _are_ pirates, aren’t you? Not very good ones, as far as I can tell, but still. Wherever there’s pirates there tends to be treasure, right? Maybe I’ll hang around for a day or two. Don’t want this trip to be a complete waste.”  
   
“… How _did_ you get here?” Joe asks. “That train?”  
   
“What, Denliner? No, no, I’m done with time travel.” Kaitou waves a dismissive hand. “Way too easy to accidentally change the past. I’d rather not be held responsible for that kind of mess. And once your name is in that time police database they keep tabs, you know? More trouble than it’s worth.”  
   
Joe blinks at him. Well that certainly didn’t answer his question. Although it’s to be expected, he supposes, when dealing with a person like this, all evasiveness and sly smiles and stories that could easily be lies.  
   
“Well,” Kaitou says, getting to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. “Might as well look into another… _opportunity_ while the night’s still young. Roll with the punches, I suppose.”  
   
He’s halfway to the stairs when Joe says:  
   
“We found it.”  
   
Kaitou pauses mid-step and turns back, curious, to look at him.  
   
“The ‘greatest treasure in the universe.’ We found it. It… wasn’t as great as we’d hoped it would be.”  
   
For a time Kaitou says nothing. Just holds his gaze steadily. And then he smiles, wry and crooked, a quiet sullenness to his laugh.  
   
“Seems like nothing ever is,” he says, and lifts a hand in parting as he descends down the staircase and vanishes from sight.  
   
  
   
  
   
Somehow Joe is entirely unsurprised to find Kaitou on the bridge the next morning, wearing one of Doc’s aprons and a sunny expression. The table is set with a rather elaborate breakfast.  
   
“I don’t know,” Doc is whispering to Gai. “I went into the kitchen and he was just _there_.”  
   
“Oi,” Luka says, crossing her arms and frowning thoughtfully. “Aren’t you the guy who tried to kill us all?”  
   
Kaitou’s bright smile doesn’t so much as waver. “Just a momentary lapse in judgment,” he says. “Forgive and forget, right?”  
   
“…Are you an idiot or something? How the hell are we supposed to _forget_?”  
   
“Hmm? I thought you people were all about ‘friendship between Sentai and Riders’?” Kaitou says, feigning offense. “Shouldn’t we all just get along?”  
   
Marvelous drags himself up the stairs, then, still seemingly half-asleep, hiding a yawn behind his hand as he takes his usual seat at the head of the table. He blinks blearily up at Kaitou, then down at the expansive breakfast spread, then over at Joe, who gives him a faint nod in return. _It’s fine_ , is what that nod means. _I’ve got everything under control._  
   
“Looks good,” Marvelous says with a grin, interrupting Luka’s aggravated retort. “Anyone who makes food is free to stick around. Just,” and here his eyes turn sharp as they meet Kaitou’s, “don’t even think about making a move on our treasure.”  
   
“Oh no,” Kaitou says, and presses a hand to his heart. “I’d never _dream_ of getting in anyone’s way.”  
   
  
   
  
   
Marvelous claims to have gotten a tip on some treasure from a guy he met at a bar last night. A stash of precious jewels, he says, stolen from a wealthy man some seventy years ago and buried somewhere on the slope of a nearby mountain.  
   
The rest of them exchange incredulous glances.  
   
“That just sounds like a folktale,” Doc says with a frown.  
   
“My hometown had a story like that, too,” Gai chimes in. “About treasure hidden in a cave somewhere. Used to search for it all the time as a kid, but no luck.”  
   
“Perhaps… we might be better off looking elsewhere?” Ahim suggests gently. “Earth is a wonderful place, but it has not been very fortuitous when it comes to actual, _tangible_ treasure…”  
   
“Yeah, remember that planet we passed by,” Luka says, “around the old Zangyack Sector C? The one with all the ruins? That one looked like a serious haul – ”  
   
Marvelous holds up a hand to cut her off, irritation evident.  
   
“This info is legit, alright?” he says. “This guy definitely knew what he was talking about. And I want to get to the treasure before that Bouken asshole shows up. Might be one of his whatchamacallits.” His attempt at flippancy is softened a bit by his anticipatory smile.  
   
“Seems _pretty_ excited about the possibility of seeing that guy again,” Luka mutters, quiet enough that only Joe can hear, nudging him with her elbow.  
   
“We split up,” Marvelous is saying, pulling a map from his coat pocket and laying it out on the table. “Me and Joe will take this area. The rest of you spread out over here and here. We’re looking for a place with five trees in a circle – that’s where the treasure’s buried.” He grins. “This is gonna be the haul of a lifetime, I can just feel it.”  
   
  
   
  
   
They find absolutely nothing, in the end.  
   
As the sun begins to set they gather back at their meeting spot at the base of the mountain, all of them looking decidedly wearier than when they started. It seems as if Doc might have fallen into a ditch, judging by the mud spattering his clothes. There are pine needles stuck in Luka’s hair. (Ahim still looks perfect, somehow, but that is usually the case.)  
   
“Sorry to break it to you,” Joe says, putting a comforting hand on Marvelous’ shoulder, “but I’m pretty sure that guy in the bar was just an old drunk.”  
   
“I found this cool rock, though,” Gai exclaims, holding up his prize with a smile. “I think it might be a fossil! See, look, you can see the outline of something here and here…”  
   
Marvelous scowls and kicks at a pile of leaves, muttering unintelligibly to himself as he turns on his heel and starts the long walk back to the Galleon.  
   
  
  
  
   
“No luck, huh?” Kaitou says, from where he’s lounging on the couch. (Has the good sense not to be in the captain’s chair when Marvelous is around, at the very least.) “You all really are terrible pirates, aren’t you? Maybe you should consider a different profession. I mean… You’re a bit _soft_ for this line of work, don’t you think?”  
   
Joe is oddly proud when Luka doesn’t rise to the bait. She seems to have realized that Kaitou Daiki is simply not a person worth arguing with. The rest of them also choose to ignore his comments, and Kaitou sighs, lifting his hands as if to say ‘what can you do?’  
   
“You had better luck, then?” Joe says, settling into the seat across from him.  
   
“Oh, absolutely.” Kaitou reaches into his jacket pocket and removes a necklace – a single, oval stone in intricate shades of orange and yellow on a delicate gold chain. “This is pretty famous, you know. Supposed to give the wearer good luck. Probably bullshit, of course, but I know someone who would pay handsomely for it either way. Or maybe…” Here he holds it up, ‘hmm’ing thoughtfully, and seems to be imagining how it might look on someone.  
   
“But anyhow.” Kaitou glances back at him with a grin. “How about a drink, to make your sad day a little less so? You must have something on board, right?”  
   
“Offering someone their own liquor as consolation is pretty low,” Joe says, trying and failing not to smile in return. He glances around. Thankfully, everyone else seems to be dispersing to other parts of the ship. Gai falls asleep after a single glass and usually has to be carried back to his room, and drinking tends to become a competition when Luka and Marvelous are present. (A competition in which no one is ever the winner.)  
   
Joe digs around in the liquor cabinet, pulling out a dusty bottle he’s been saving for a special occasion, as well as two hopefully-clean tumblers.  
   
“Nivean Firewater,” he says, as he sets it down on the table in front of Kaitou. “From Azkiri.”  
   
“Azkiri?” Kaitou echoes. “I’m guessing that’s a ways away from here.”  
   
“You’d be right.”  
   
“Is it your home planet?” His voice is tinged with amusement as he says those last two words, like he can’t quite believe he’s having this conversation. It’s understandable. Despite all the attempts at domination by alien forces, Earth is still very much cut off from the rest of the galaxy, existing in its own, quaint little corner with hardly any concern for what lies beyond the stars.  
   
“No,” Joe says, and cracks the seal on the bottle, pouring Kaitou a glass and pushing it across the table. “My home’s even farther.”  
   
“You don’t say? What’s it like there?”  
   
“It’s…” Joe pauses, then, thinking back to the bleak desert landscape, to the bombed-out city with its crumbling buildings and boarded-up windows, to the Zangyack propaganda plastered on every wall. He wonders if his family is still alive, somewhere on that dusty planet. He never really _loved_ them. Things like that were an extravagance no one could afford. But they had been something, at least. Something real.  
   
“It’s not a very cheerful place,” he says finally.  
   
Kaitou smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well then. Seems we have something in common. The place I come from isn’t terribly cheery either.”  
   
He sips at his drink, wincing at the strength and the undoubtedly-strange taste of it, and Joe studies him carefully. People get a certain look about them, when they have nowhere to return to. Joe’s seen it in Luka’s eyes when they first found her, and in Ahim’s when she first found them. (And in himself, too, during those few weeks on the run before Marvelous appeared and changed everything.) But Kaitou doesn’t have it. That hopelessness and desperation. His home may be gone, or out of reach, but he must have some place where he’s welcome at the end of the day.  
   
“Your companions,” Joe says cautiously. “What are they like?”  
   
Kaitou raises an eyebrow. “You realize I’m a thief, right? You really think I have companions?”  
   
 _Yes,_ Joe thinks but does not say. _You’re not as aloof as you pretend to be._  
   
Kaitou takes a swig. Somehow his glass is already empty, and he reaches for the bottle to pour himself another.  
   
“… They seem normal when you first meet them,” he says, after a moment of contemplative silence. “But… they’re strong. Stronger than I am, probably. I guess I’ve always liked that type.” He shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. “The ones you don’t expect.”  
   
Joe nods. He understands that sentiment well enough.  
   
There’s a faint flush in Kaitou’s cheeks as he takes another sip. Firewater is incredibly strong, fast-acting stuff even for Joe, whose kind have a high tolerance by nature. For a human it’s another story entirely. He hadn’t expected Kaitou to be quite so eager.  
   
“So,” Kaitou says slowly. “You’ve forgiven him, have you?”  
   
His eyes flick towards the captain’s chair for a brief second.  
   
“… Nothing to forgive,” Joe says, repeating aloud what he’s been telling himself for the past few months. “It was for the best.”  
   
And it was. He would have done the same as Marvelous, had the responsibility fallen to him instead. In the end, it’s not the lie itself that hurt him. It’s that he had believed it. He had thought that he knew Marvelous like the back of his hand – this man who couldn’t bluff at cards because his face gave away everything, who believed the inane stories of total strangers just as long as they bought him a drink.  
   
And yet somehow, Marvelous had tricked him. And now every time Joe looks at him, a part of him wonders: _what else don’t I know? What else is he capable of? Am I still not close enough, not trustworthy enough, to be shown the real him?_  
   
“For the best?” Kaitou echoes, with a joyless laugh. “You _would_ say that. So quick to make excuses for your beloved captain.”  
   
He drains the rest of his drink and brings it down just a little too hard on the table. His eyes are glassy, and yet there’s a hard, biting edge to them all the same.  
   
“You’d follow him to the ends of the fucking earth, wouldn’t you? Or I guess ‘the universe,’ in your case. You’d do absolutely anything for him. But he’s special, isn’t he? He’s _untouchable_.” Kaitou’s smile is cold. “He’ll never love you like you love him.”  
   
 _Are we still talking about me?_ Joe almost asks, but stops himself just in time. Instead he simply reaches over to slide the bottle out of Kaitou’s reach.  
   
“I think you’ve had enough,” he says.  
   
Kaitou stares at him for a moment, then sighs and lets his head fall back, hitting the wooden backing of the couch with a quiet ‘thump.’  
   
“I _am_ aware, you know,” he says softly. “Of how pathetic I am when it comes to him.”  
   
He lifts a hand, then, and seems to be reaching for something around his neck before remembering that it’s no longer there. His fingers curl around empty air, knuckles white with tension.  
   
“I don’t like that side of myself,” he continues. “But… at least this way, I’ll always be in the back of his mind. At least he won’t be able to forget me again.”  
   
“…Again?” Joe says, but Kaitou doesn’t seem to hear him. He gets to his feet and sways a bit, and Joe reaches out to steady him, grabbing him by the arm, a reflex left over from so many nights out with Marvelous on seedy, backwater planets.  
   
“You should… probably stay here for a little while.”  
   
“Ohh, I see how it is. Plying me with drinks so I’m too out of it to leave?”  
   
Joe huffs out a quiet laugh, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “You realize you’re the one who suggested this, right?” He tries to maneuver Kaitou back on to the couch, but Kaitou shrugs out of his grasp, leaning forward to put his arms around Joe’s neck. He smiles brightly, his face suddenly very close to Joe’s own.  
   
“Y’know, I’ve been wondering what you might look like with your hair down,” he says. “You don’t mind, do you?” His hand moves up to tug at the band.  
   
Joe thinks that he _should_ mind. He doesn’t like people touching his hair. Ahim is usually the only exception. (She used to have a friend, she says. A maid in the palace. They would braid each other’s hair. She must be living in one of the refugee colonies now, Ahim says, but doesn’t quite seem to believe her own words.)  
   
He should hate having Kaitou touch his hair, running his hand through as he slides it loose, lazily twisting a lock around his finger. But he doesn’t. Instead he shivers, and Kaitou’s smile grows more pronounced.  
   
“Just like I thought,” he says. “You look nice.”  
   
Joe would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about this. He’s not like Marvelous, who attracts the affections of strangers wherever he goes, or Luka, who seems to have an old flame in every port town they visit (most of them angry about stolen valuables). Joe isn’t laid-back about such things the way they are. He still has that strict soldier’s training ingrained in him – focus on the mission, on the big picture, on strengthening yourself above all else. He rarely thinks of others in _that_ way.  
   
So it’s strange, really, the number of times he’s been distracted by thoughts of this person. Wondering where he is and what he’s doing. Remembering that last smile before he’d vanished. Remembering his voice saying “haven’t you hurt him enough” –  
   
His breath hitches as Kaitou leans in to kiss him.  
   
It’s more chaste than he’d expected – hesitant and somehow thoughtful, surprising for someone who tastes so strongly of liquor. Joe reaches out to put a hand on his waist, pulling him closer, and Kaitou seems to relax, then, his mouth curving into a smile against Joe’s own.  
   
“You’re not very good at this, are you?” he laughs, pulling away just enough to speak.  
   
“…Haven’t had much practice,” Joe admits. There have been… occasions in the past, with Marvelous and Doc (and once with Luka when neither of them were entirely lucid; they haven’t spoken of it since). But those times have been few and far between. He’s never been much for superfluous physical affection. A result of his upbringing, maybe. Things like that simply weren’t proper in his culture (what little remained of it).  
   
Which is partly why he catches Kaitou’s hand as it tries to slip beneath the hem of his shirt.  
   
“What?” he says, raising an eyebrow. Despite the carefree act he’s putting on, this obviously isn’t the norm for him. His pulse is fast beneath Joe’s fingers. “Suddenly you’re not interested?”  
   
Joe shakes his head. “That’s not it,” he says. “You… is this really what you want?”  
   
Kaitou’s gaze darkens. He’s still smiling, but suddenly there’s a hard, bitter edge to it. “You wouldn’t be a _replacement_ , if that’s what’s bothering you.”  
   
 _It’s not **my** feelings I’m worried about,_ Joe almost says.  
   
“Either way,” he says instead, clearing his throat awkwardly, “you’ve been drinking. I think… it would be better to stop for now. You can… take my bed tonight, if you want.” Kaitou raises both eyebrows this time, and Joe quickly adds: “I’ll take the floor.”  
   
“Ah, you’re no fun,” Kaitou sighs, but obediently follows Joe anyhow, off of the bridge and down the stairs towards the sleeping quarters. (They pass the storage room, and Joe almost doesn’t catch it when Kaitou slips inside, pockets the antique pistol that’s lying on the table closest to the doorway, and slips back out again. “Put it back,” he says, trying hard not to smile, and hears yet another overdramatic sigh. How anyone can be that quick-thinking after that many shots of Firewater is worthy of applause in of itself.)  
   
As they reach his room, Joe wonders what else Kaitou might have in his pockets, stolen while no one was here to keep an eye on him. Searching him before he leaves might be a wise idea.  
   
“Kind of sparse living arrangements you’ve got here,” Kaitou says, stepping inside and glancing around. A bed. A table. A chest of drawers for his few belongings.  
   
“… Never been much for decorating.” Another holdover from the military, but he supposes it _is_ a bit sad. More like a prison cell than a place to call his own. Doc has painted his a soft green. Luka’s is filled with strange, “possibly valuable” things she’s picked up on her travels. Gai’s walls are plastered with photos of his friends and family. Only this room has nothing at all to distinguish its occupant.  
   
“You’re not really going to ‘take the floor,’ are you?” Kaitou asks with a disbelieving laugh. He grabs Joe by the wrist and pulls him over to the bed, pushing him down by the shoulders before he can so much as protest. He takes a seat next to him, then, close enough that his leg is pressed warm against Joe’s, their shoulders brushing.  
   
“It _is_ possible to just sleep in the same bed, you know,” he says. “That is a thing that people do here on Earth.”  
   
Joe can feel the corner of his mouth twitch. “Is it really,” he says. “I never would’ve known.”  
   
  
   
  
   
As he drifts off that night he realizes, distantly, that he doesn’t have his sword. Sleeping soundly without a weapon in reach should be unthinkable.  
   
But there’s Kaitou’s arm around his waist, breath warm against the nape of his neck, and Joe thinks that maybe, at least for tonight, he can drop his guard just a little.  
   
  
   
  
   
(A week later, in orbit around a planet far away from Earth, he ventures into the storage room to find a note saying “I’m just borrowing it ;)” in place of that same antique pistol.)


End file.
